The Forever Man

By Jonathan Turner, (c) 1999 THE elevator door opened and Rydell stepped out, wrinkling his nose at the familiar hospital scent of antiseptic. He flashed his badge at the cop seated behind the desk at the entrance to the intensive care unit and walked past briskly, pushing through two
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Callahan’s Endtimes Saloon

By Mark McFadden, (c) 1999 I watched helplessly as Nicholas and Niobe entered the lawyer’s office. Nicholas was scrubbed and collegiate; our Niobe was all rosy to be in the field. Her IRS credentials and CPA training were going to be more useful in the interview than my skill se
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Bye Bye, Baby

By Stabernide, (c) 1999 Newton pulled up on East Colorado Boulevard, strode into Fat Sam’s, and ordered fried chicken and a bottle of Pale. He took a cubicle and waited till a waitress called Candy came over with his meal. He didn’t really think too much about anything unt
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Evasion of Discipline

By Kenneth Scroggins, (c) 1998 I once heard a soldier say, “Freedom is a harsh mistress. She demands only one price, and that price is blood.” I know who bleeds today. I watch him drive up to his robin’s egg blue cinder block house. He exits his dark green chevy subu
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Going Home

By Shane Ivey, (c) 1998 I went home. I went home to… well, I reckon you already know the name, even if they said I should tell you the rest. It’s right beside Sneed and Oneonta, up north in the great state of Alabama, up in the rollin’ hills and little mountains. I&#
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Clara’s Names

By Shane Ivey, (c) 1998 The CIA operations officer ran fearful and breathless down grimy cement stairs into the stuttering flourescent light and casual filth of an unnamed subway station on Lexington Avenue. She spared a glance up the stairs and saw an orange-hued streetlamp glaring a
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Yuki Onna

By David Farnell, (c) 1998 “You should not have remembered,” she says. She is changing. Yes. The desk is far away. I lunge for it anyway, training kicking in in spite of the shock. I get the gun out–heavy, so heavy. I turn to face her. She hasn’t moved. She has
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The Immortal

By David Kish, (c) 1999 The downdraft from the helicopter threw sand up into Ellison’s partially shielded eyes. He jumped down onto the hard tarmac and began running from the helicopter, which was already taking back off. The dust subsided and allowed Ellison a chance to get his
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Bleeding Darkness

By Shane Ivey, (c) 1998 The Morgue was cramped and ill-lit, an archaic and frightful repository of death held over in the modern day only by the vagaries of city funding and dubious tradition. Its halls were narrow, as were its operating rooms and its storage chambers, all of them mad
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Y.GOLO.NET

By Shane Ivey, (c) 1998 Teddy often sat in the silence of a darkened bedroom, a room rank with the smells of teenage sweat and filthy clothes, lit only by the pale glow of a monitor and disturbed only by the soft sounds of gasps and grunts from the computer’s speakers. He typed
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